


I Live for Your Hatred

by toxicwaste



Category: Naruto
Genre: Explicit Language, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 03:31:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2372924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toxicwaste/pseuds/toxicwaste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obito wants to tell Deidara he's not who he thinks he is, wants Deidara to know just how much the blond really means to him. The chance arises, but is it the best idea to admit such things even when the desire is strong enough?</p>
<p>Updated and refined. It's advised to reread if you have already read before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Live for Your Hatred

**Author's Note:**

> Updated and refined. It's advised to reread if you have already read before.
> 
> Minor spoilers, very slight sexual implications.   
> Thanks for reading!

**AN** : This story definitely needed some revising and so I present you a newly updated version. As a side note, I last said that I might do a part two and that is still a thing that might happen. Soon, maybe.

This updated version includes: correct spelling, filled in words that were left out, Tobi speaking in first person and not third, and a better ending because the first one went too fast. Also enjoy the added imagery and fixed plot issues.

It’s been suggested to point out small spoilers, but that’s only if you’ve been living under a rock and haven’t watched or read Naruto in a very long time. So, beware of that and of course, Deidara’s foul language. There are minor implications of sexual content but it’s extremely minor.

 

* * *

 

Obito had to wonder just how it would feel to completely let go; to stand up so tall, look down at the moving earth beneath him, and let his body limply soar through the warm air. He could imagine it, the feeling of the heavy Akatsuki robe slashing and flailing about his body, the way his hair would tickle and flicker across the back of his neck, and how the hot air would engulf his body and make it harder to breathe, especially so with the swirly orange mask covering his face. The shinobi wearily wondered if he would die before ever reaching the bottom.

He wondered if someone would be there to catch him.

The masked-nin took a slow look over his shoulder, his single eye trained on his blond partner. Deidara's hair was whipping about the figure like golden rays of sunlight, his eyes cast down in thought, hands idly squishing pale cream clay between inky nails. Obito turned to face his partner a little more, resting his hands on the large birds back for support. The sun was setting behind the artist, the warm tones of the sky giving Deidara a rather gentle look. His skin, tanned from spending his days lost in the sun, glowing like morning dew, drew contrasts of darks and bright whites over his cheek bones, the curves of his hands. It was a sight to behold, one that Obito would likely never forget.

When eyes full of constellations and dreams fluttered up to his lone one hidden in a sea of ink behind the orange mask, thin brows narrowed in irritation and the Obito couldn't help it when the corners of his mouth quirked upwards. Such looks were common, Deidara had always made it known that he detested the masked male. Obito no longer flinched away from such things, not after such a long time of being partners with the explosive teenager. With every word he said, every action he took, Deidara was there to remind him that he was as intelligent as a bowl of rice, as important as the dirt he walked on.

"What are you looking at?" Even his voice, filled with distaste and disgust, was alluring. Obito wanted to shake his head and tell the blond how beautiful he looked behind the deep sunset, show him how he adored the artist and all of his faults, his beauty, his passion. But that, Obito had long since decided, was a side that Deidara shouldn’t see. His true self, hidden behind the persona of “Tobi” and all of his cheer and love, was where Obito lay clouded in the dark horrors of the world. That person was not someone who wanted to reveal himself to someone like Deidara who appreciated life and the wonders he found in the stars and sky. Ultimately, however, Obito had to stay hidden a while longer. Infinite Tsukuyomi was a work in progress and he couldn’t allow it to crumble. "You should never interrupt an artist, even when he's just in thought, hm."

Just how many times had Obito heard that? Too many to count, it seemed. It seemed that no matter what he did, the masked man would always posses the ability to upset Deidara without meaning to (though most of the time, he would admit, it _was_ on purpose). But such is his fate should he be known as "Tobi" to Deidara.

"I was just thinking how pretty you look!" Obito responded, voice a few pitches higher than normal. He hadn't lied, at least, but he knew that Deidara would take it as insult; he always did. When Deidara’s brows narrowed further, crystals blinking in slow annoyance and distaste, Obito only laughed sheepishly as a hand comes up to rub the back of his head as though he were embarrassed.

"Piss off," Deidara mumbled, turning away from the masked-nin. Obito let his hands fall to his sides, resting on the white bird the two were currently seated on, slowly drifting through the summer air. He stifled a sigh and momentarily closed his eyes, focusing on the comforting and familiar twilight he had grown accustomed to during his long life.

Obito found that Deidara, however, was far brighter and far more soothing than the darkness could ever hope to be. Despite their odd relationship, despite the lies and hidden truths beneath what Deidara saw as Tobi, Obito found himself unable to stop a sliver of a smile from gracing his features when he thought of his partner. The lies could be forgotten, the truths could stay a secret; Obito was able to find a small source of happiness in knowing that he could at least be in the presence of the artist. He was brighter than any light Obito had ever seen, he was the cloudless sky Obito had been dreaming about for so many years.

Obito stood, suddenly, taking note of the way Deidara didn't bother to acknowledge him as he carefully tiptoed to the edge of the great bird. Going back to his previous thoughts of falling, Obito wondered if Deidara would catch him should he teeter off the edge and fall to his sure death.

"Senpai?" Obito held his arms out, liking the way the wind pushed against him, as if daring him to fall. "Should I fall, would you catch me?"

He didn't receive an answer.

He hadn't expected one.

Staring down at painted toes as they dangerously wiggled over the edge, Obito idly pondered on the idea if he were to die, would Deidara even care? There is doubt in Obito’s mind and the answer is obvious. Deidara had not cared before so why should he now?

"If you were to fall, I would catch you. There's no point in getting another partner when chances are I would get someone with fewer brain cells than you." Obito perked up a bit, turning around to face the blond. The pretty eyes were downcast, slim hands still working the clay expertly. "I will say that the sight of your body splattering to the ground would be pleasing, but I'd rather kill you myself, making your existence into something beautiful; an explosion, a work of art."

Obito would have chuckled had he been able to. Deidara never failed to surprise him, even with his threats and comebacks. They were morbidly poetic, a poem of death, decay, and destruction, though Obito found them to be just as interesting as anything else the blond did. Just to hear the arsonist’s voice was enough for him, even with such images flashing through his mind of what Deidara had said, Obito couldn't find it in himself to be offended or hurt.

He knew his advances, as childish and admittedly as stupid as they were, were in vain. Deidara, even if he knew Obito for himself, surely wouldn't come to love such an ugly man as himself.

The clay bird started drifting downwards, preparing to land within an oncoming forest the scarred man could faintly see. Camping for the night in the air wouldn't be safe; it was already dangerous to be this low to the ground now as they descended. Settling down in the depths and growth of a thick forest seemed to be the best option- and one they normally opted for- as there wasn’t nearby.

Obito sat back down, letting his legs dangle off the edge carelessly (he now knew that Deidara wouldn't let him fall, which made his chest swell, even if for the wrong reasons), humming loudly in response to the blonds’ reply.

"I knew Senpai would say something about art! That's all you ever talk about, after all. Do you ever think about anything else?" Obito could very faintly hear said man scoff quietly, no doubt shaking his head in irritation. "Does Senpai ever think about _me_?"

"When my thoughts drift to you, I want to blow my own head off," came the reply. Expected, really, Obito had found that replies of the such were common and he had grown to accept them as something of a compliment. If Deidara were to use what he deemed art on himself, then perhaps Obito could find comfort in knowing that at least it was something Deidara loved. "Other times my thoughts of you are of me blowing _your_ head off, hm."

"Senpai _can't_ think badly of me, though! Who else would keep you such great company?" He didn't receive an answer this time. Obito would have liked to think it was because he _did_ somehow keep the bomber occupied and, maybe, he hoped, entertained.

They landed in the center t of the forest where the trees were thick and the leaves were large. As if he had washed the sunset away, the oranges and pinks had all too quickly bled into purples and blues like watercolor. The nighttime was steady, stars playing peek-a-boo from the spaces in between the spaces where leaves and branches were allowed to breath.

"Rest or something, I'll take the first watch, hm," he heard Deidara call out softly, watching as Tobi pranced around the forest floor in a comedic fashion. The blond rested high up in a tree, his long fringe pushed behind his ear to reveal the scope hidden behind the locks of gold. Obito saluted in response before sliding down a tree opposite from the one his partner was in, leaning his head back against the roughness of the heart of the tree.

Another quite night, another night to think about pointless things.

A hand coming to rest over the swirled mask brought an onslaught of negative feeling. Oh, how Obito hated covering himself up like he were a monster. _Monster_ , however, fit him all too well, in the masked man’s opinion. With deep scars gracing the right side of his body, down to his finger tips and to the middle of his thigh, Obito found himself resembling the monster in bedtime stories mothers told their children. This, he had pondered about for some time, would be a reason of many as to why Obito hid himself and his intentions from Deidara.  

He let dark eyes flutter shut. He couldn't deal with such rejection. "Tobi" could handle it fine, but his true self would have never been able to. He had already lost so many people he loved; losing Deidara would be the last blow. The dark haired male didn't think he could handle knowing that Deidara, somebody he grown to love and cherish, thought he was too ugly, too disgusting, not human.

He drifted off on such sorrowful thoughts.

 

* * *

 

"Tobi, I said _wake up_ , hm!" Onyx eyes lazily opened, though his mind and body were already working miles a minute as shinobi instinct led his limbs. He reached out, eyes fuzzy as though he hadn’t opened them in years, grabbing a hold of Deidara by the front of the teens cloak. His eyes, however, finally adjusted to darkness coating the forest like a blanket easily and in that, he was able to take sight of Deidara's angered expression as said male was pulled into the elder’s lap.

"Senpai!" Obito whined loudly, wrapping his arms around the squirming blond. "Five more minutes, I need my beauty sleep!” Deidara, though, pushed hard against Obito’s chest, threats being hissed out of thin lips before he was seated against the elder.

"Let _go_ of me!" Obito sighed contently, letting Deidara squirm against his hold. It was a nice feeling, to have Deidara in his arms, even if the smaller male was squirming, pinching, slapping against his body. Easily he held tight of Deidara, thick arms wrapping tighter around the bomber to further prolong the one-sided hug. "I swear to every damned God out there, if you don't let me go, I'll _fucking kill you!"_ He felt a hand wrap around his neck, thin fingers pressing tightly into his throat.  

"S-Senpai, I never knew you could be so _dominant!_ " Obito would have really laughed, should he not be acting. To see Deidara turn red in the face from anger, those blue eyes glittering with the promise of death from his comment, it was truly a sight. He felt those digits curl tighter around his throat, surely to leave bruises the size of planets, the color of galaxies.

With a harsh slap to his face, the mask slightly jerking to the side from the force, Obito finally let Deidara go, watching from the side as his fingers gave one last tug to the wave of gold following the blond. Gloved fingers curl slightly, trapping the very ends of the wheat before the strands slip out of reach. Quickly adjusting his mask, eye trained on the whisk of hair that trailed behind Deidara like a road of gold, Obito stood as Deidara stormed back to the adjacent tree he had last sat in.

"I was only joking, Senpai!" He choked out, clumsily hopping on one foot as if he had lost his balance. Obito, still grinning lightly, ran in front of Deidara before he could jump and escape back into the shadows of the tree tops. Holding his hands in front of him in defense, Obito continued. "I was still only half asleep, Senpai, I didn't mean it!"

Which, in reality, was another lie. Countless times had the masked man dreamt of the blond, countless times had he dreamed _dominating_ the blond. To see that face screwed up in pleasure, crimson and rose painting his cheeks a sweet cherry, hair like liquid gold threading through his fingers, resting over his arms... it was a dream Obito had more often than he would have liked to admit.

"Fuck off, hm," Deidara snarled, pushing past the taller, making sure to step on his toes in the process. Obito yelped in false pain, acting as though it had really hurt. Turning around to face the bomber, who was now walking in a different direction to escape the swirl of orange he so detested, Obito followed as usual, tumbling over his own feet to race in front of his partner once again.

"Would Senpai had rather _I_ dominate?" Obito knew he was taking this too far, he often did so to get a rise out of the younger and this time had been no exception. He could see Deidara’s face turn cherry from his cheeks to the tops of his ears, angry and frustrated.

Deidara merely turned around, fists balled up at his sides as they bounced against the clay pouches resting against his hips.

"You're a fucking idiot, Tobi! You're out of your _fucking_ mind if you think you'll ever have that sort of power over me. Keep your sick fantasies to yourself, you hear me?" And that hurt. Dark eyes were shut to the world for a moment and Obito found himself coated in inky tar as though he were drowning in an oil spill. The fear of rejection, the fear of his feelings never being returned was easy to ignore most of the time. This time, however, Obito found himself with knees like jelly and a heavy so heart his chest hurt. "How you're even a part of this organization is beyond me, Leader must have lost his mind if he thinks you're of any use to us. You can't do a damned thing right around here, hm."

Oh, how clueless he was. Obito shook his head, though Deidara couldn’t see it with his back turned. If only he knew, if only _he knew_ how _bad_ Obito wanted to come clean, wanted to show Deidara that there was _so much more_ to him than just a silly man hiding behind a mask. He was fit, he was capable of survival, he wasn’t _Tobi_.

"You're wrong," he answered before he could stop himself. There was no masking his voice, there was no hiding the hurt that tainted each word that was uttered in a voice that the world had yet to recognize.

And Deidara noticed.

The blond stopped, turning around to face the masked-nin with confusion twisting the pretty face. Obito shut his eyes in annoyance with himself. It seems, however, that Deidara had been right as Obito found himself unable to do much of anything right. His life, long and hellish, had been wrong from the start.

"Tobi? What was that?" _Shit_.

"U-uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about! Maybe you should get some sleep, too!" There really was no hiding it, he knew. Deidara was a curious creature, Obito had figured out from watching the bomber. Those thin figures were always tracing something, poking and prodding at one thing or another. Eyes as clear as the summertime sky were always inspecting, lost in a world of thoughts only he alone knew of.  Obito knew that Deidara wasn't going to get this go.

"Don't fuck with me; do you think I'm stupid, hm?" Obito raised his hands up in defense once more, starting to wonder if maybe _this_ was his chance to show the blond who he really was and to just prove to him how wrong he had been.

The masked-nin, however, decided against such things. Deidara would no doubt be disgusted and repulsed, finding Obito unworthy of a partner or someone he could work and stand beside. Dull and filled to the brim with sorrow, memories that haunt his dreams day and night, and scarred like a flower with too many missing petals, Obito was unfit to be near someone as vibrant and whole as Deidara. He had lived a life in the shadows, watching, waiting, in a hellish world for something he might have hoped was magic to change him, change the place he called home. It hadn’t come, though, and as time wore on, Obito found himself living in a shell, an ugly, scarred body without a heart, without a soul. And yet, Obito couldn’t face the consequences of how Deidara would surely find him untrustworthy after lying to him for such a long time. Giving Deidara the information of who he really is, who he once was, would surely cause their relationship to dip down into a pool of regret.

"Of course not!” Obito gave a nervous laugh, the high tone of his act shrill in the near silent forest. He watched as Deidara's eyes flicker over his body, anger evident in the pretty baby blue. Yet, as predicted, he didn't back down.

"Why are you in the Akatsuki? They only want people with talent and I've yet to see you do anything remarkably worthwhile, hm." It was true, Obito knew. He had been refraining from using jutsu or techniques in attempt to hide himself. Revealing himself will come in time and before that time comes, Obito must wait and stay wake in the back view. He is, after all, dead, the lost soul of a young boy haunting and wondering.

And yet, here he was, alive with regret, hidden secrets and power that the artist, and most of the Akatsuki, knew nothing of. Just what could he say, though? Deidara was no fool, and he wasn't one to be tampered with.

Obito thought over his options quickly. Should he keep up the Tobi act, Deidara's suspicious should only grow and he would be found out in a matter of time. His relationship with the blond would only worsen; something the masked-nin didn't want to happen. However, should he tell the other some of what he wanted to know (and what Obito so badly wanted to tell), he would be rejected, hurt, and, ultimately, alone. He knew Deidara's hatred of the Sharingan and the Uchiha's, knew that the blond would feel betrayed when he found out just who Obito really was and what he planned for the earth to undergo when the time was right.

What should he do?

He wasn't sure, but he had to act fast. Deidara was already moving toward him, brows knitted together in concentration. Perhaps he should let it out, after all and show Deidara the truth and finally free himself of yet another loved one.

He refrained from flinching away as Deidara's small fingers ghosted over the front of his mask. Obito watched as the angered expression disappeared from the pretty face and was replaced by genuine curiosity. Deidara movements were slow, yet sure, crystals trained on the shadowed hole within the right side of the mask.

"That’s not a good idea, Senpai," Obito said, starting to step backwards, feeling uncomfortable with the sudden privacy invasion. No, this wasn't supposed to happen, it was wrong to have even considered letting Deidara see his true self. There was no way Deidara could have come to accept Obito as he is.

"Your voice, it was different. You never take off that hideous mask, you always wear so much clothing, and you're showing no signs of intelligence or power, hm." He kept stepping back, unsure of where this was going. The artist kept following, though, keeping small hands on the front of the mask. "Why don't you just fucking tell me what you're doing here and what you’re hiding from me?" he suddenly shouted, gripping the sides of the mask and yanking.

And in that moment, Obito was sure this was going to be his undoing. There didn’t seem to be many options at this point and the options he did have weren’t going to fly over Deidara with ease. The option of placing Deidara under a genjutsu was an easy option, but the artist would remember the flash of red behind the swirl of orange and that, Obito decided, was not good. Another decision was to simply whisk away, kamui elsewhere and run away, just as he had all his life. This, however, would not be forgotten and Deidara surely would remember for later. It seemed as though there was no escape and as an unpleasant turn of his stomach made his head light and knees weak, Obito found the strength to halter the inevitable.

He swiftly grabbed Deidara's wrists, preventing him from removing the mask. Still, Deidara’s fingers had hooked under the soft elastic and had grazed against the flesh of his cheeks. Obito, with a pull of his brows, had stopped breathing at the touch he had longed for.

There is a moment where the forest has stilled and the stars have dimmed to quietly watch as Deidara’s chest rises and falls with short breathes. Obito, hands near trembling, loosen though keep the small wrists trapped in the warm leather of his gloves as he too regains the ability to breathe.

"I will confess if you are willing to listen," he quietly said, voice still pitched in a way that leads Deidara to believe that Tobi is still present. "But you won't be happy to hear the truth." Obito’s stomach was in knots, twisting and turning as butterfly breaths were pounding softly in every crevice of his insides. He wasn’t ready; he would _never_ be ready to admit the things he was now promised to say aloud. He had, however, no choice at this point. The fear of reject was building, bubbling, and spilling over, clouding, _drowning_ Obito in a flurry of feeling he thought had long since been destroyed.

Deidara never responded.

At this point in time, Obito had wished he really had fallen off the clay creature hours ago. Death was surely the perfect escape of such a situation.

"My name is not Tobi, as you know it.” There is obvious hesitation his voice as the act is dropped. Deidara’s wrists are left suspended in the air as Obito reluctantly lets them go. The change of voice perks the blond, however, and Obito can clearly see the way thin brows twitch in confusion. “I am not meant to be here, as I was supposed to die many years ago. But I was saved from my sure fate of death by the Devil himself."

Truth was all he spoke. Madara Uchiha _had_ saved him from what was supposed to be his heroic death, but looking back on it now and looking at his plans for the future of this world, perhaps it hadn't been a blessing after all.

"Keep going," Deidara mumbled, crystals narrowing, glittering in the darkness of the forest. Obito reluctantly complied.

""Tobi" is just a persona, a made up person, if you will. He was made to trick you and most of the other Akatsuki members into thinking I was worthless or useless." Obito shifted slightly on his feet, watching carefully for any fast reactions Deidara might have towards the newfound information of his partner. “It seems as though it has worked, yes?”

"I will be the reason this world descends into darkness," Obito murmurs, lifting a hand to his mask. It was tempting, so tempting, to pull the mask away and tell the bomber _everything_. Down from the boulder ruining his body to the day he realized that life on this earth was already the hell that most feared. From the realization that everyone he had loved had been lost to the newly found admiration, lust, and longing he felt for the artist, Obito wanted to tell it all. The opportunity was there, the willingness to listen was present. But _could he_ physically do it?

"Whether you believe me or not is up to your instinct, Deidara. Believe me if you will, for I only speak truth. But should you not, then I'll return to Tobi and things will go back to normal."

"You say that you’ve hidden your identity and that means potential." Obito’s nod confirms what Deidara said. “I want you to keep talking, then.” While that neither confirmed nor denied his belief in what Obito has said, he takes it as a good sign and continues on after a moment of silence.

"There are too many things to tell you, some of which should not be said aloud in a place such as this, if you truly wish to learn them all. There is, though, one thing that perhaps you have a right to know. Deidara was quiet again.

It was unnerving, it was fearful and made Obito want to vomit in the nearby bushes as the butterflies in his stomach beat their wings faster that gave him a rather nauseous feeling. Deidara’s prolonged silence didn’t do much to help and just when he could stand the silence no more, Deidara sighed heavily, shaking his head.

"We have worked together for some time and I figured there must have been something about you that would make the organization want you. A hidden identity, secret power... you’re still a dumbass, hm.” The familiar insults helped clear the water raging from within the taller male’s head. “I can’t trust you, I _can’t_. But we are partners and I don’t plan on dying yet. That means- that means that we have time together in which you should quit fucking around and tell me the truth.”

_Time together._

Deidara had calmed down and for that Obito was grateful. Having said that, however, the thought of spending a good amount of time together made the scarred man’s heart beat just a bit faster. Though he knew it would not be as sweethearts, lovers, or anything in between, it was enough.

“I promise to tell you what you wish to know, if that’s what you would like,” Obito fingers lifted the fabric connecting the mask to his face, sliding his thumb under to remove, “If you wish to speak to me after this, that is.” Deidara’s fingers twitched at his sides as the mask was pulled slightly to the right.

“You’ve become more interesting, I see no reason to _not_ talk to you at this point, hm.” Snarky, Deidara was. It made the corners of Obito’s mouth twitch upwards, just to show a hint of a smile.

“You might have guessed what has been hidden under this mask before. A monster, a beast with screwed up features and a snarl to match. You would have been right, had you guessed that.” The mask is pulled off, though Obito’s eyes droop down to rest at their toes, the slivers of grass growing from under the dirt. Obito feels the coolness of the air against the left side of his face, the right having had lost all feeling when his body had been replaced by the Senju cells. The facial gear from under his chin is removed and placed at the base of his neck, exposing more scars as they trail down his neck and under the thick layers of clothing.

"I'm disgusting, scarred and ugly, tainted and filled with hate. There is nothing beautiful about the way I look on the outside and the way that I think and feel on the inside. I am just a man who has lost hope, a shell of a child who should have died long ago.” Deidara is silent, he notices, his face impassive as though everything being said was ineffective, unheard. “I had been hoping for so long that perhaps you would see past the flaws that I hold, past the regret and self-hatred I harbor and come to admire me the way I do you, Deidara.”

It was a small step, but a step nonetheless. Obito’s legs felt transparent, nonexistent, yet he himself felt heavy as though the world had suddenly come to stop and must continue to turn it alone. Deidara’s chin rose, just a bit, as though he were _now_ interested and that, Obito supposed, must have been fact. His mouth opened to speak, though Obito quickly continued, wanting to get everything out in the open before his reject was truth.

“You are alluring; you are beautiful in ways that neither I nor anyone else could be. In a world so dark and full of hate, pain, and regret, you have found light and from that, _I_ have found something to wish upon a star for. There is nothing about you that I do not adore.

A deep breath is taken as Obito drops his gaze once again. The final beat of butterflies against his ribs helps push out what he had wanted to say for so long.

“I love you. But I know that my feelings are one-sided. How could you ever come to love someone as pathetic as I?”

There is not enough noise, he realizes, after the silence has once again engulfed the two criminals. The stillness of the forest makes the scarred man realize just how quiet it really is. He had lived in silence for far too long and had become aware of just how deathly pale the noise of simply nothingness was. It was unsettling, upsetting, and Obito wished he had the willpower to simply just leave and slink back into the shadows where he belonged.

“There’s more, of course, though I suppose I should get the worst of it out while you still wish to listen.” Eyes lock, one as clear as the summertime sky and the other filled of inky regrets and hate. “You have expressed your distaste of this family for as long as we have been acquainted, though you haven’t met one member of family officially yet.”

Obsidian swirls red, the famous Sharingan being showed for all to see in the dark of the night. Deidara, who had once again become impassive, quickly screwed his face up in distaste at the sight of the famous doujutsu.

"So, tell me how much you hate me, how much you wish I were nothing more than ashes between your fingers, Deidara. I am everything you despise.

I live off your hate; it's the only thing I'll ever receive from you."


End file.
